


In A Girl's Skin

by Eustacia Vye (eustaciavye)



Category: The Chronicles of Riddick Series
Genre: F/M, Gender Dysphoria, Gender Identity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-07
Updated: 2016-11-07
Packaged: 2018-08-29 17:09:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8498305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eustaciavye/pseuds/Eustacia%20Vye
Summary: How Jack became Kyra.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Malkontent](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Malkontent/gifts).



New Mecca was awful. Okay, the Preacher wasn't so bad, and took care of Jack as if he was the Preacher's own son. At first, anyway. Once the terrors of the hell planet and the demons wore off, the Preacher started insisting that Jack had to look and act like a girl. "You are in a safe place now, Jack. Or is it Jacqueline? You no longer need to hide your identity and pretend to be a boy," he said, trying to be earnest and helpful.

"Who's pretending?" Jack had snarled at him, suddenly feeling like the generosity was a curse. It came with strings attached – most things did, he found – and he had honestly expected better coming from a holy man.

Maybe Riddick had been right to dismiss religion.

Just thinking about Riddick hurt a little, because while he knew the fugitive couldn't stay, some part of him had hoped like a stupid child that he would. Jack had looked up to him. Not for his crimes, of course, not really, but because of his attitude. _Fuck off, all of you, I don't give a shit what you think._ It was something Jack had so desperately needed, trying to assert himself as a boy when trapped by a fluke of biology.

Boobs and blood didn't make someone a woman, just as a dick didn't make manhood. But most people didn't see past that, couldn't, had too little imagination. Or whatever. Jack didn't care, as long as he could be Jack.

People were stupid, though. And short sighted. And casually hurtful in ways they didn't even comprehend sometimes. Random words, gestures, or glances, and they could cut like Riddick's knife, rapid and razor sharp.

His nightmares were of the demons on that hell planet, the shrieks beyond the walls, the stink of blood and terror. He could hear the terror-filled screams of those other boys, sacrificial lambs to their god. Or maybe their god abandoned them, and that was why the demons got them. Jack could only remember the terrible guilt at doubting that Carolyn would return, and the relief that followed when Riddick did. Carolyn hadn't treated him any differently after Riddick outed him; maybe there hadn't been any time for her to do it, but Jack liked to think that there would have been kindness and understanding as well as a spine of steel. She had been fierce, the kind of person Jack wished he knew more of. Unfortunately, the galaxy didn't see him the way she did.

Jack got the hell off New Mecca as soon as he could. He had his hair shorn, Riddick style, and tried to cop an attitude like his. That got him off Helios, a world full of softies and bleeding hearts. It didn't work on Hartingen, more of a commercial hub of ships. It was full of mercs and killers and scum, right beneath the thin veneer of legitimacy. Some saw the more delicate features of his face, the softer planes of his body, and knew the biology. As much as Jack tried to get away from _those,_ kinds of assholes, only a blade hidden somewhere could keep him safe. That didn't help on Lupus 5, though; those mercs only laughed at him and slaved him out whenever they could. Not able to kill them, the most Jack could do was slit a john's throat and beat feet as fast as he could.

Groups of mercs couldn't be trusted. He would have to run solo. Maybe pair up for safety. He would have to do whatever it took to stay safe.

There were some female mercs that no one messed with. Not for shits or giggles, not for forced attention. Jack approached one, black eye still fresh and cuts on his hands. "Hey," he said to get her attention. "How come no one fucks with you here?"

The merc looked him up and down. "You don't know who I am, do you?" she drawled in accented Common.

"No. Should I?"

Laughing, the merc shook her head. "No. But _they_ do. They know I'll gut a man just for fun, just see him bleed. They know I'll run 'em down for ever putting a hand on me that I don't want there."

"So how'd you get a rep like that?"

She smiled indulgently at Jack. "Gutting rats like you is a start."

Jack narrowed his eyes at her. "Let's see you try it," he snarled, jaw lifting.

The merc laughed and finished her drink. "Then let's go."

Feeling trapped, Jack tried to fight when the merc grabbed him and slammed him into a wall the second they got outside. She kissed him, shocking the hell out of him. "Dressing like a boy will get you killed quicker," the merc told him, amused by his outrage.

"The fuck was that?!"

"Under that dirt and grime, I can see a pretty girl in there. I can teach you how to survive out here if it's what you want, but dressing like a boy just makes you look desperate. Like a backwater runaway."

Jack was absolutely a backwater runaway, so the comment stung.

"I'm Kyra."

"Jack."

Kyra gave him a mercenary grin. "I've been itching for some company lately, and you're not going to fuck with me. Not when you need me."

That was debatable; Jack could probably find something he was good at. Maybe.

He accompanied her back to her ship and scrubbed down thoroughly. It was the first time in months, maybe even a year, that he'd felt _clean._ Kyra seemed to take too much pleasure in bathing him, and expected to be repaid in sex. She clearly was into girls, since she didn't notice anything but overt biology, and was tickled at the thought of corrupting an innocent.

So Jack let her fuck him, licking and sucking and using fingers to get her off. She learned how his body responded, and insisted that he do the same to hers. It wasn't distasteful, exactly, just... odd was the best word for it. There was pleasure when Kyra fucked him, when he fucked her. but he had no emotional attachment in this. It was an exchange. For sex in the evenings, Jack was taught the fine art of blades, blasters, guns and some poisons. Basic bounty hunter fare. Kyra insisted on putting sexy girl clothes on Jack, on fondling her and making coy jokes when mercs were around. It was calculated to enhance her reputation, which worked.

Jack got good with blades, with fighting skills and weapons. Kyra's guard didn't let down much, which was to say that she treated Jack the same as before. He was an idiot student, the project to amuse her and keep her company. The glances Jack got when paraded around in skimpy clothes made her skin crawl. They salivated like idiots, wanted to touch, wanted to charm him and feel like men. No way. He was better than that. _Should_ have been better.

The way he had to dress and behave was disgusting, but kept a roof over his head, food in his belly, and blades in his hands. He cried when Kyra had him grow out his hair, when the curls were visible. He _hated_ her for that, hated how she crooned and carded her fingers though his hair. "Keep it long," Kyra demanded. "The bozos out there will be distracted by it, won't think that you can fight."

Okay, maybe Kyra had useful advice. Jack still hated her.

He hated the way there were those breasts on his chest, the long curly hair, the long eyelashes, the flare of his hips. The fucking bleeding and cramps and shit? The human body was a piece of work, and girls definitely got the shit end of the stick.

Doubly so in Jack's case. All the shit of female biology, and he was trapped inside it.

He tried to see it as a disguise. Chameleon skin. Armor, maybe. No one looking at him knew him for who he was. He wasn't the backwater loser he once had been. He wasn't a dead body rotting on that hell planet, until the suns bleached his bones.

Kyra was always too close, too ready to call him "girl" and slather his skin with kisses. It was gross, it made him feel like whoring himself out to her was a mistake.

But he could bide his time. Those demons had to wait twenty-two years to come out and feast. Jack could wait, and he didn't have nearly as long.

When Kyra trusted him, truly trusted him, she gave him the access codes to her ship, its armory, and her accounts. By then, Jack knew just about everything there was to know about how mercs worked. It was terrible, and it wasn't who he wanted to be.

Riddick hadn't given a flying fuck about rules and was his own man. He was practically a legend in merc circles, and no one could keep him for long.

Jack slit Kyra's throat as she slept, and dumped her body out of the airlock. He had everything he needed in that ship, and he was going to be the baddest motherfucker in the galaxy.

He glanced at his reflection in the console as he punched in the coordinates for some dive that Kyra had always hated. Scum among scum, the true bottom of the barrel. Assholes just waiting to be killed. Most of them had bounties, but mercs didn't want to dive into that space.

Losers, one and all.

His smile was all menacing and teeth, dark gaping areas where his eyes were. His hair was a curly mass tied on top of his head.

For a moment, he thought he looked like one of those demon-spawned beasts.

Well, it was fitting. That was what he was going to be. A monster of a man in a girl's skin.

And just for shits and giggles, he'd even use Kyra's name as his own. She'd given him a lot and gotten him started. It would be one last gift from her.

The galaxy wouldn't know what hit it.

The End


End file.
